


Touch Love

by hoinseok



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Panic Attacks, Reader has a panic attack, bucky doesn't believe in ghosts, i have a puppy named zuko and he's the goodest boi, rated m cus swearing and panic attack, reader can see ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoinseok/pseuds/hoinseok
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes, despite all the things that he’s seen in the hundred or so years he’s been alive, doesn’t believe in ghosts. Sure, he believes they exist in a metaphorical sense - hell, he’s still subjected to their appearances when he’s asleep - but he doesn’t believe that the undead is actually real. Ghosts aren’t real. And nobody - not even the pretty, albeit clearly deranged, woman who claims that physically touching him “makes the scary ghosts disappear” - can change his mind otherwise.Inspired by the Korean drama ‘Master’s Sun (주군의 태양)’(Warnings: Mild swearing, panic attack)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 44





	Touch Love

**Author's Note:**

> a whole year since I last uploaded anything and well...I have a shitload of feels for bucky barnes/sebastian stan that just seemed to come out of nowhere (they actually didn't. they've been sitting and festering since the start of the year when i decided to do an avengers/mcu marathon TWICE. now all i want to do is **** sebastian's ****).
> 
> wrote this on a whim because i decided to re-watch one of my all-time favourite kdramas which sort of spurred this on. i've had a bit of writing troubles lately so this may or may not make sense but it feels good to actually write and post something and not hate it. don't know if this needs a sequel or if i'll even write one. hopefully this kicks my ass into g so i can actually complete my drafts and not hate them. ugh. writer feelz.

_“Stop. Touching. Me.”_ Bucky all but growls at you who completely ignores his request and proceeds to poke his chest with your forefinger. He ignores the way the sight of you innocently biting your lip stirs something inside of him and roughly grabs your hand and shoves it back into your chest.

If the gesture bothers you, you don't show it. Instead, you giggle lightly and clap your hands in wonder. “This is so fascinating!” You cry and look down at the large four-legged companion by your side. “Do they disappear for you too, Zuzu?” You turn your wide-eyes back to Bucky and attempt to touch him again, but he quickly deflects your moves. You pout and he pretends it doesn’t have an affect on him.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” He says gruffly.

“You don’t understand,” You plead. “When I touch you, they go away. They disappear. This is the first time in three years where I have stood outside my apartment and not seen any-”

“Don’t!” Bucky interrupts with a glare. “Don’t say ghosts. Ghosts aren’t real. Spirits aren’t real.”

You look positively confused. “You’re an Avenger though.”

Bucky snorts at that.

“You’ve fought monsters and aliens and bad guys. You’re friends with a demi-god-”

“I wouldn’t call us friends.”

“-who is travelling with a talking racoon and a talking tree. You and your best friend were _literally frozen in ice and survived_. No offense, but considering what the world has been exposed to in the last ten years, I don’t think the existence of ghosts are as far-fetched as you believe them to be.”

A small part of Bucky knows that you’re not exactly _wrong_ , but he isn’t going to give you the satisfaction of telling her that. Ghosts aren’t real. And nobody - not even the pretty, albeit clearly deranged, woman who claims that physically touching him _“makes the scary ghosts disappear”_ \- can change his mind otherwise. Without offering a response, he turns on his heel and quickly walks back in the direction of the tower.

He just wanted to be by himself. Since arriving at the tower, all Bucky had felt was suffocated and it had been at the suggestion of Steve that he take a walk around Midtown Manhattan. Get to know the area, clear his head, breathe in the freshly polluted air that belonged to New York City. It wasn’t a bad idea - heck, Bucky even found himself relaxing after an hour of walking down random streets and not being recognized. Sure, the fact that his metal arm was covered and he was wearing a low baseball cap to cover his eyes, but it felt nice to blend in. Familiar. Breathable. That was until a large black dog with brown spots zoomed past him and he was caught off-guard by the weight of someone crashing into him. His initial instinct was to check for danger, but then he heard the frantic apology falling from your lips. When he looked at your face, he saw the shock in your eyes making him tense; fearing that you had recognized him.

If only that were the least of what happened.

“Wait!”

He hastens his pace when he hears you call out for him to slow down. Time may have changed since he was last in New York but the city still had its fair share of weirdos.

“Please wait!” You call out again. “I didn’t mean to scare- ZUKO NO!”

Bucky doesn’t have time to react before he is being pushed to the ground and the sound of your dog growling next to his ear. He tries to sit up but the weight of the large dog permits him to do so, making him groan in frustration.

“Zuko. Off.” You scold and the dog obeys. “I’m so sorry,” You say meekly, offering a hand to pull him up. He eyes it warily and decidedly ignores it, pushing himself off the ground. If you’re offended, you don’t show it as you rest your arm comfortably at your side and prattle on. “He doesn’t normally do that to strangers but it’s been a weird day and I try to bring him out of the apartment once a week because I know he gets antsy being cooped up inside all day but there’s a reason I don’t come outside and I should have probably considered that before getting a dog but I was lonely and I-”

Bucky groans and ponders if the pounding in his head was from being knocked over by an eighty pound dog or your incessant talking.

“-was told that dogs are good companions for people who don’t socialize but then I should have probably gotten a smaller dog but I absolutely love Zuko and he’s so well-behaved and it helps that he can see ghosts too-”

“OK, enough.” Bucky grits as he rubs his flesh hand down the front of his face. “Look, the fact that you know who I am must mean you know that I’m not particularly fond of being touched by people. My life is sort of in a fucked up place at the moment and I’ve had enough weird shit happen to me that I don’t need more of it, including pretty dames who own dogs that are almost bigger than themselves and believe that they can see ghosts.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask him unabashedly with a growing grin.

He narrows his eyes before storming off and leaving you on the sidewalk giggling.

You hope you meet again soon.

* * *

Bucky is taking a stroll through Central Park that he sees you sitting on a park bench, Zuko lying by your feet, and you’re talking to...no one? All common sense screams at him to turn the other way and pretend he never saw you, but his curiosity gets the better of him as he watches you speak animatedly with wild hand gestures to the vacant space next to you. Spotting a large bushe a few feet from where you sat, he cautiously makes his way over and perches behind the leaves so that you can’t see him if you turn, but he can hear your - clearly - one-sided conversation.

“-and then Zuko, bless his beautiful soul, caught the large pigeon but refused to let it go even though I screamed at him for what seemed like hours but was only a few seconds because I really did not want that yucky bird inside my apartment but Zuko was relentless and you would think he was a cat with the way he played with the poor thing even though it was clearly already dead and had probably died from fright than injury and-”

On and on you prattle about whatever it was and Bucky questions if you understand the concept of running sentences or breaks in between words or _breathing_. He tries to drown out your nonsensical talk and focuses on the way you talk as if someone is sitting next to you and listening to what you are saying. He thinks back to your first interaction a few days ago:

-

_“W-where did they g-go?” You ask slightly fearful and Bucky frowns in confusion._

_“Where did who go?”_

_“The ghosts! I can’t see them. Where did they go?”_

_Bucky stares at you incredulously and the tension he felt when he thought you had recognized him is replaced by caution that you were possibly on drugs. “There’s no such thing as-”_

_“They were right next to you!” You shriek, your eyes darting around wildly. “There was one right next to you and Zuko saw them which is why he ran and now they’re gone and I don’t understand because they are always around but they’re not!”_

_You blink, rub your eyes then jump and point a shaky finger behind Bucky. He turns sharply, his metal arm reflexively whirring into action, but he pauses when he sees nothing behind him. He turns back to you but is rendered speechless when you launch yourself into his chest with a terrified screech._

_“What the fuck?!”_

-

Bucky shakes his head at the memory and frowns when he realizes the ridiculousness of the situation. He’s squatting behind a bush and listening to you converse with thin air. Scoffing, he stands up all too quickly, forgetting that he is meant to be hiding, and catches the attention of the large, black German Shepherd. Before he has time to react, Zuko is on his feet and standing protectively in front of you with a threateningly low growl.

You pause mid-speech and look at Zuko strangely, following his gaze to see Bucky - ex-Winter Soldier, former assassinator, was once known as the ‘Fist of Hydra’, current Avenger - frozen and staring back at your dog with a slightly petrified expression. You blink in surprise before noticing the transparent figure looming over Bucky’s shoulder staring at him intently. You recoil in fear, but when Zuko emits another warning growl, the apparition spares one glance at you before disappearing. Gingerly, you reach out at and pet Zuko’s head and whisper soothing words until he calms down and slowly lowers himself back in front of your feet. You clear your throat and flick your gaze back to Bucky who seems to relax at the sight of your dog lying down.

“Zuzu doesn’t attack people,” You offer weakly. Buck stiffly nods and it is then that you notice he is standing behind a bush. You ask him why he’s there and a slightly embarrassed expression washes over his face as he scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“No reason.” He gruffs. You nod, not quite believing him, and turn back to continue your conversation when he interrupts you. “Who are you talking to?”

You face him again, blinking, and wave your hand as if it were obvious. “I’m talking to Marjorie.”

“Who?”

“Marjorie. She comes here every evening and waits for her husband to join her.”

“There’s no one sitting next to you.” Bucky deadpans.

It’s your turn to frown and you answer sharply, “Just because you can’t see her doesn’t mean she’s not there.” And with that, you turn back to the elderly lady dressed in a bright yellow sundress with a white cardigan and a white hat sitting next to you, and pointedly ignore the bewildered look the super soldier is sending you. “Sorry about that Marjorie. Now, what was I saying? Oh, right! Zuzu…”

Bucky is stunned but before he can retaliate, he hears a soft voice call out behind him, and he turns to see a short, elderly gentleman wearing a pair of brown slacks, a grey knitted sweater, and a grey newsboy hat, a black cane in hand, approaching the park bench with a warm smile.

“Mr Goldstein!” You greet brightly and you stand up as he gets closer. Zuko stands with you and wags his tail when the old man pulls a piece of dried meat from his pocket and drops it in front of him.

“Good evening Y/N,” The elderly man replies after patting Zuko’s head. “How are you dear?”

You grin. “I’m good, Mr. Goldstein. How are you?”

“I am just fine, dear.” He turns to the empty spot that you were sitting next to and a wistful smile appears on his face. “And how are you, my love?”

“Mrs Goldstein says she’s perfectly happy now that you’re here,” You say after a few seconds of silence. “She also says that you’re late and that you better not have been flirting with that Barbara Fielding from down the hall.”

Mr Goldstein laughs heartily and sits in the middle of the park bench, patting the empty spot on his right and looking to his left. “Never, my love.” You sit on his right and angle your body to the left. Zuko chews happily on his dried meat.

Bucky watches with intrigue as the elderly man asks questions and you respond after a few moments of quiet nodding. But after what felt like a few minutes, and noticing the quizzical stares of people passing by, he realizes that he probably looks like a creep standing in a bush and watching two people talking on a park bench. He takes off in the direction that he came, just missing your curious gaze trailing after him.

An hour later he wanders back to where you were and finds you sitting by yourself with Zuko still resting by your feet. He briefly considers ignoring you but decides to walk over and pique his interest instead. “Is there anyone sitting here?” He asks jokingly, pulling your attention to him. He doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes and for a split second he feels guilty at his joke.

You shake your head and tilt your head for him to sit down. It’s quiet for a few moments before you speak. “Marjorie passed away a year and a half ago from cancer. She and Mr Goldstein were married for fifty-three years and together for almost sixty-five, and they would go on evening walks and sit at this bench to just talk. I met them three months after she passed away while I was walking Zuko. I’ve been communicating between them ever since.”

The super soldier looks at you from the corner of his eye. “And he just believes that you can see his deceased wife?”

“I guess so,” You shrug. “I mean, he was skeptical at first when I told him I could see her and hear her, but when she told me a memory of theirs that only he would know, he seemed to believe me as much as one can believe in the existence of spirits of the deceased.”

Bucky snorts. “Don’t you think it’s a little twisted to be leading on an old man and pretending to talk on behalf of his dead wife?”

His words stung but your face remains impassive as you gather Zuko’s leash and whistle for him to stand. “It could be perceived that way. But if the only good thing to come out of me seeing these things is to sit with an elderly man who still mourns for the love of his life and play messenger, then I’ll do it.” You take about ten steps forward before turning around. “She looks like you, you know?”

The soldier raises his eyebrows curiously. “Who?”

“Rebecca.”

* * *

You’re standing outside your apartment complex looking for your keys in your handbag with Zuko standing next to you patiently. Feeling your fingers brush against the familiar metal, you sigh in relief and pull your keys, but the sudden appearance of a terrifying looking ghost right in front of your face makes you scream and drop everything you’re holding. You squeeze your eyes shut and cover your ears in the hopes of drowning out the sound of your screaming and pounding heartbeat.

“Go away, go away, go away go away!” You chant through short gasps of breath.

Tears are forming and you squeeze your eyes even tighter to stop them from falling. You can hear the muffled barking of Zuko and the distant sound of someone yelling, but you can’t focus on anything except the deafening sound of your heart palpitating in your chest. Your body is numb as your hands claw at your ears and you’re unsure if it’s the ground that’s shaking or you. The image of the ghost is embedded in your mind, and you shake your head violently to remove it from your memory.

“Please go away!” You cry as you sink to the ground. You can vaguely feel the wiry fur of Zuko against your face but everything feels so far away and unreal and hot.

Everything feels hot.

You’re suffocating.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

The voice that calls out to you sounds slightly familiar but you struggle to place where you’ve heard it before. Their voice is loud and deep - louder than your heartbeat and so deep you want to drown in it. Amidst the terror in your mind, you blindly try to reach out for it.

“Just focus on my voice, alright?” The voice cajoles. “Listen to my voice. You need to slow your breathing down, alright? I’m going to count and I want you to follow. Do you understand?”

You think you nod.

“Good. Breathe in for four seconds-”

You take a staggering breath in.

“-one, two, three, four. Hold for seven; one, two, three-”

You hold your breath.

“Now breathe out for eight counts. Seven, six, five-”

You release the air you're holding and you feel the tightness in your chest unclench just a little.

“Good job, sweetheart. Again. In for four counts.”

You repeat the exercise three more times until the knot in your chest is loose and your breathing is mildly steady.

“I’m going to put my hands on you.” The voice softly announces. “Can I do that?”

You think you nod because you feel their hands encompass your own and pull them away from your ears. The next thing you feel is a warm hand on one side of your face and something cool pressing against the other.

“Can you feel that?”

You nod. You’re still shaking but the two contrasting sensations are new and somewhat comforting. You lean into the colder sensation and earnestly seek its strange comfort.

“That’s good. Now I need you to open your eyes and look at me. Can you do that for me?”

The memory of the ghost is at the forefront of your mind and you whimper. Zuko barks at your obvious discomfort. Your breathing picks up again. “I-I-I can’t…” You sob. “I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see them.”

“I promise you they won’t be there when you open your eyes.”

You shake your head furiously, choked sobs leaving your lips. “Please don’t make me open my eyes. Please…”

“Sweetheart,” The voice coaxes gently and they press their forehead against yours. “Sweetheart, I’m right here. Nothing is going to hurt you, alright? I promise you won’t see them. I’m right here. Take a deep breath for me and slowly open your eyes.”

You hesitate but the soothing voice of the person in front of you eases you into another round of breathing exercises; relaxing you enough so that you inhale deeply before slowly opening your eyes and looking into a pair of piercing blue ones.

Bucky is calm when his gaze locks with yours. He can feel the tension steadily leaving your body as his thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. Your bottom lip quivers and he notices the wet sheen in your eyes. “I’m right here, sweetheart.” He murmurs quietly. “Now I need you to describe five things you can see in front of you right now.” Your eyes dart around wildly but Bucky is quick to call for your attention. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Tell me five things you can see on me.”

You swallow thickly and open your mouth. “B-b-blue eyes,” You croak and Bucky nods at you encouragingly. “L-long h-hair. B-beard. B-black c-cap…”

“One more, sweetheart.”

You glance down and see a chain hanging around his neck. “D-d-dog ta-a-ags.”

Bucky smiles at you softly. “Good girl. Now tell me four things you can feel.”

You press your face further into his metal arm and reply a bit more clearer, “Zuko’s fur. The breeze that just passed us. Both your hands on my face.” You pause in contemplation. “Does that count as two things?”

He chuckles. “I’ll allow it. Can you name three things you can hear right now?”

“New York traffic. Kids squealing. Zuko breathing.”

“Good,” Bucky nods. “Name two things you can smell.”

“New York sewage.” You wrinkle your nose in disgust. “And hot dogs.”

“You don’t like hot dogs?”

“I love the taste but hate the smell.”

“Interesting.” He murmurs. “Now tell me one good thing about yourself.”

There is a moment of silence before you stare into Bucky’s eyes and answer, “I’m not crazy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my work. I'm always open to thoughts and feedback, so feel free to drop a comment or leave a kudos!
> 
> Please look forward to my other work :-)


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